Realms of the Sues: An Exploration
by Nallasariel the Weeper
Summary: Formerly 'Plots of the Sues'. Mocks more than just Sues - Crossovers and pairings also ripped on by the actual characters. Yes, this shall eventually have a plot. Thus far: Undercover!Maid and AH.
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: Sues are, most fortunately, not mine, nor are the various _Artemis Fowl _characters appearing. And the brief appearance of the Almighty Douglas Adams is completely not mine. Savvy tantas?

_Not part of _Over-Analyzation_ because it shall have multiple sections. Not one for every Sue, obviously, but you get the point._

Dedicated to that little, angsty Sue within all of us. Yes, even you Gus.

**Plot of the Sues** (An oxymoron, I know)

Introduction: Marie-Claire

* * *

There was a knock on the door.

Artemis Senior slid his dark blue eyes towards the mahogany door, narrowing them slightly. Domovoi never knocked. Juliet, Dom's sister or no, could be heard a mile away. Junior never had anything to say to him. Angeline usually called to him from outside the door. An assassin would not be so stupid to knock, unless their quality had gone down sufficiently since the Chartre incident.

"Come in," he said, and adjusted the mirror so he could watch the door without turning. His long, elegant white hands tightened around a titanium letter opener.

He blinked. Twice. Framed in the convex make-up mirror he had borrowed from Juliet was a girl who was most certainly not the two-year-old Butler. She had the sort of hair one sees in _Herbal Essences _commercials, although whatever length it had was concealed through the gleaming onyx braids that were coiled up like a crown around her head. Large, exotic amethyst eyes stared at him from beneath obviously plucked eyebrows, standing out all the more against the creamy honey of her skin. The faintest dash of glitter highlighted her angular cheekbones, and was matched by the gleaming points her heliotrope nails made. Her curves stretched at the seams of space-time, almost to the point of being labeled _Hollywood_.

She wore a classic French maid's dress with a little feather duster in one hand.

_Strike One._

"Er… Sir?" she asked tentatively, stepping into the threshold.

Artemis sighed, and swiveled his chair towards the girl. She could barely even be fifteen, but those curves!

He glanced, semi-guilty, at a photograph of Angeline on their wedding day before continuing. A bit of a no-no there. "Yes?"

She bobbed her head, petite hands almost bird-like in fashion as they fluttered nervously around the duster's worn sandalwood grip. "I'm Claire-Marie, sir. I'm supposed to report to you, sir."

"And who sent you?" he asked, sighing inwardly. These could be so repetitious.

The head ducked down again. "Mademoiselle Angeline, sir."

He threaded his hand through his loose black hair, then brought it down to rub his temples. "And when did _Madame_ Fowl ask for your help around the house?"

She was about to bob her head again, but he cut her off with the other hand. "Let me guess; when she saw that Juliet and Domovoi, who have each spent the better part of ten years training to take care of three very neat people in a relatively unused Manor, needed assistance. Correct?" His eyes raised themselves to look at hers, meeting their beryl depths questioningly.

She met them squarely. "Yes, sir. Arty has been especially stressful lately, as I understand it, sir."

_Strike Two._

A vein pulsed at Artemis' forehead, but it was fortunately covered by the shifting strands of black as he leaned back in his plush leather chair. "Since when have you and my son been on a first name basis?"

For the first time, her gaze wavered, ducking down again towards the deep indigo carpet. Her petite feet shuffled nervously. "We—we've met before."

_Three Strikes and You're Out…_

Artemis rested his elbows on the chair's armrests, lacing his hands together before his bloodless lips. The seat reclined fractionally. "And where did you meet? At school, or 'deep underground in Haven'?"

"Actually, sir, it was in Hea—"

He cut her off again with a brisk wave of a hand. "I've heard them all, Claire-Marie. Judging by the fake British accent, you're really from some imaginary world where any idiot can apply for an extremely elite job that no one of your… figure… could possibly succeed. You will say you're from either Britain, Ireland, France or possibly Atlantis."

"It's called _America_," she interrupted angrily, violet eyes flashing. Her arms had crossed themselves across her hefty bosom.

"Whatever you prefer to call it, my dear Marie. You are also too young to have possibly earned a 'blue diamond tattoo', a license from any known country for assassinating and/or spying, or, in a very, very fantastical world, a graduation into LEPretrieval. You are somehow gifted, despite your young years and the social habits that come with incredible beauty, millionaire status, a membership in MENSA, and license for flying aeroplanes."

"Helicopters," she said, sounding strained. Her face had taken on an odd red hue that would not have been misplaced upon Julius Root.

"And," he continued triumphantly, "might I add, that you have forgotten the small fact that Artemis Fowl Junior is only a year old. Your stupidity is unparalleled. You should not, by all definitions, exist."

There was an odd popping sound, causing Artemis to blink. When his eyelids opened again, Marie-Claire was gone. She had, in so many words, disappeared in a puff of logic.

He sighed, and walked over to the doorway. She had left a small dust pile, shimmering purple contacts, and a note. He picked it up.

_WARRANT: ATTAIN ARTEMIS FOWL BY ANY MEANS NECESSARY. _

Artemis' sigh repeated itself. It was sad, really, to see how low the fine art of forgery had fallen these days. Marie-Claire hadn't even done any research behind what a real warrant looked like, alleged American or no.

The wrinkle lines etched themselves a little deeper. She hadn't even gotten the name right. For whatever legal purposes the warrant was meant to serve, she was coming after _him_.

He shuddered, and sat down again. His thinning frame sank into the chair daintily, only denting the fine weave slightly.

Artemis spun the chair around. There, lying on the desk where he had abandoned it, was the letter opener. There was a funny red stain that hadn't quite come off yet, despite Domovoi's ministrations, running down its side.

Speaking of Domovoi…

He rang the buzzer on the hardwood desk. There was a little pile of radioactive dust she needed to sweep up before Junior decided it tasted good.

* * *

How would Artemis Sn. know about things and characters that haven't even appeared yet? Why, the Sues told him, of course!

Yes, this will eventually have a real plot. For now, call it a collection of Sue-bashing with a plot that is too layered in highly symbolic foreshadowing for anyone of a decent IQ to understand.

Throw whatever you'd like on the review pages. Suggestions are even welcome. I'm letting myself loose on these.

Updates are whenever I get sick of confined, intricate stuff like OMAM or my original stuff, whose complexity level is about to surpass _The Silmarillion_. I like having breaks occasionally, you know.

Namárië,

Nallasariel the Weeper


	2. Holly Fowl

Quick A/N: I know the title implies otherwise, but I shall extend this to mocking other things. Horrible Sues are not the only problem plaguing this particular fandom. (H/A _coughs _H/A)

Oh, and a big hug to some of the folks at Crim. Someone gave me the idea for the ending, and I stole it without asking. _Désole _and _merci beaucoup_ to whoever that was.

**Part Two: Holly Fowl **

* * *

"Dammit, Artemis!" Holly cried, shaking the limp figure cradled in her arms. "Dammit all, _just stay awake!_"

Artemis Fowl the Second, his slender figure decked out in red, black and white, made no response besides the faintest fluttering of his eyelids. Pale lips quivered, trying to form words, but the blood painting them a fated crimson allowed little but a hoarse attempt at breath.

Holly's hands reached around his back, pulling him onto her narrow lap. Around them, giant granite slabs rained down on the city and outlying concrete plains; the 'sky' of Haven was falling. The city was abandoned, thankfully; thanks to Artemis' hijacking of the Council warning-system, they had gotten the evacuation order out on time—but Foaly would have wished it otherwise.

Holly blinked back tears at this thought. _Foaly_. Foaly, who had been her constant friend in the LEP for so long. Foaly, who had saved her life countless times. Foaly, who had betrayed them when they had least expected it. _Foaly…_

"Damn damn _dammit all_!" she cried, shaking Artemis' body again. The black Armani suit was dyed a truer shade of sable at his chest; before Foaly had been killed, he had managed to squeeze out one too many Mud Man-style rifle shots. Butler had died earlier of Foaly's machinations, though they had all blamed Artemis for it, and Root lay already buried in the LEP building he had dedicated his life to.

And there was Juliet. She had gone insane with the death of her brother, killing herself with that same rifle that eventually kil—fatally wounded Artemis.

Holly wished for the thousandth time she had magic left. The battle had left her drained of all her sparks, and Artemis hadn't told her until it was too late. He hadn't even worn a Kevlar jacket, driven by those biting words she had given him…

Regrets. She had so many of them. If she hadn't told Artemis that he was a coward, he would have worn that jacket and saved his own life. If she had only paid closer attention to that suspicioud limp, she could have gotten him to the medics in time.

If she hadn't even joined the LEP, she wouldn't have had to known Artemis Fowl.

But Artemis had made a mistake. And this time, there weren't any Butlers around to dive in front of the bullet.

Artemis was dying.

The tears fell hot and fat down her cheeks, some splattering onto Artemis' pale face. They left crescents through the grime, trailing down and across his gaunt cheekbones.

If her eyes hadn't been so blurred, she would have seen that not all those tears were hers.

"Holly?" Artemis asked weakly. His eyelids trembled, as if struggling to open.

Holly opened her eyes again, one hand reaching up to rub them eyes free of tears. "No, Artemis! Don't die on me!"

(No pun intended)

On her lap, Artemis finally managed to open his eyes. They were little more than slits; the curve of a bow, really; the ivory curve of the Greek Goddess Artemis' bow—glazed with death and pain. "Call… me…"

"Call you what?" Holly asked feveredly, holding Artemis closer. Around her, the granite began to truly fall, the sounds allowing room for nothing but the closest conversation. The thought of saving herself did not even cross her mind.

"Ar—ty…"

Holly blinked twice in quick succession. Tears trembled on her lashes, then fell. "What?"

Artemis did not respond, instead opening his eyes all the way. A hundred feet to their left, a boulder the size of a small house crashed into part of the large airfield used for experimental models of the Hummingbirds. The main part of the Haven-cavern had already collapsed entirely; this was the last remnant of the People besides the dying urban city of Atlantis itself.

Holly read those eyes, read them like one of Root's precious lawbooks. There was regret, blue-black regret that screamed more aptly than any media announcement or simple words:

_I love you_.

Artemis smiled slightly, closing his eyes again. "Stupid… I… know…." He coughed suddenly, weakly, more blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.

Holly shook her head, the veil of tears once more descending upon her vision. Dust coated her face as the ceiling above began to rumble. "No, no, it's not stupid!" she whispered fervently. She smiled, though her heart was breaking. "I have something to tell you too."

Artemis didn't ask. He didn't need to.

Holly held Artemis closer, gently leaning forward to give Artemis a final, parting kiss.

Carried by the collapse-induced wind, two voices drifted past the hopelessly snogging Holly and Artemis.

"…should we do it now? Ooh, this is just driving me _insane! _I would _never _go around kissin' _you_!"

"Really. In any case, save the Neutrino for Foaly when we get back. That piece is about to fall on their heads."

"Just because you _like _watching this sort of thing doesn't mean I do."

"That was immature, Captain."

"As if you aren't."

Twin Neutrino shots, separated by less than a millisecond, speared the entwined silhouettes embracing on the floor. The sound could not be heard over the sound of the demolition glycerin knocking out those final granite pieces from the ceiling to make room for the new (_and improved!)_ Spud's Spud Emporium.

The boulder pieces smashed nothing but ancient concrete and a small pile of slightly radioactive carbon, which defied both the laws of chemistry and canon.

When they had stilled, two slender silhouettes began picking their way across the extensive boulder field. Although one was considerably taller than the other, both were dwarfed by the warehouse-sized slabs they were flying between on their new Hummingbirds.

Their argument echoed in the chamber, which seemed rather odd since it was roughly the size of the Bronx. Things not of its own particular world tend to do that.

"…you really did not have to shoot, Captain. It would have been most helpful if we had at least collected samples from them. Waste not, want not."

"You ought to pay attention to your own words, _Arty_."

"My name is not 'Arty', Captain. Just because you are not capable of sounding out such big words does not mean you cannot try."

The smaller of the two figures drew out her buzz baton and zoomed in closer to the _real _Artemis. "I'll call you whatever I damn well like, _Arty_, and stop staring."

Artemis, of course, stared at her, fiddling with the controls on his altered Hummingbird. "What?"

When they arrived back at the new LEP building in the newly developed city of Nouvelle, Foaly would wonder why the buzz-baton charge was so drained.

* * *

Heheh…. If the end confused you a bit, I figured that. I wrote this is about thirty minutes when OMAM was giving me trouble. Again, no pun intended.

Next week: **_Belle_!Hermione** – or – Arty's Not-So-Secret Cr**U**S_h_ (and it's not Holly, against all odds…)

(To give y'all fair warning, I plan on mocking a B/A and slash in general – not Yeti's brilliant creations, mind you, since I simply adore _Forty-Two _and _My Queer Young Mind_ – in the near future. Slash should be expected, and ruthlessly mocked.)

Namárië,

Nallasariel the Weeper


End file.
